that old feeling

the empty well taunts the coin
clock arms fan comfort through souls
until they petrify
and day blinks into sunken night
steam builds up
the furnace freezes
cars take a hike and
somebody crossing the street outside
turns into a god-damned
werewolf


the recurring technique
terrifies the bloated tongue into
tragic comedy
knees lock tight
gritting teeth bloody cheeks
fragile hands and hammer-toes
walk slowly away until they run
then sprint then fly then
migrate

in the old wooden wheelchair our
haggard frenzy slinks out of the vault
into the nesting den where
activity absorbs light
and ignores the howling bones
not keeping hounds at bay
they kiss you wet and dry

tools hang as always in right places
by proper hooks
inside endless ammo bins
where luster fades from mirrors
whether in neglect or in
abundant use

Images: Wishing well,[1] and me reflecting[2]

[1] Wishing Well, Ramona’s Marriage Place, San Diego, Calif.; public domain: https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/510d47d9-3fc4-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99
[2] “that old feeling” © 2018 by Tim Brown, Bentari Project